Chapter 14
Agnes told herself that it was because of the fox cub that she couldn’t sleep, worried that the poor thing had been snatched up by another predator instead of reunited with its mother. But the reality had more to do with a Wolf than a fox.
She couldn’t get Gordon out of her head.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had leaned in; the whisper of his breath against her lips; the flush of heat that had coursed through her veins when he had let his gaze admire her fully; the mere fact that she had wanted to be kissed by him, regardless of whatever skeletons he had in his tower.
You keep wanting to scare me, but you keep doing the opposite.
She groaned and turned on the bed, burying her face in her pillow. Perhaps she could smother herself to sleep.
“Your rules are stupid,” she muttered into the eiderdown.
Was your plan to torment me all along? Tell me you can’t touch me so that all I can think about is your touch?
She had assumed he had earned the nickname of the Cruel One by some violent misdeeds against his enemies. What if she had gotten it all wrong? What if he had earned that nickname by toying with women’s minds instead?
“And what if Edwin never stops pursuing Lizzy? What if I am always under your protection?” she protested as if he were there in the room with her. “Does that mean I am never to let any man look at me again?”
It was not that she desired the attention of other men, but if he was not going to marry her, she ought to have the luxury of choice.
Then again, who could compare?
He had been devilishly handsome with his beard.
Without it, he was godly. Categorically the most handsome man she had ever seen, the perfect blend of rugged and beautiful.
And he had not even shaved his strong jaw smooth.
There had been a shadow of stubble, and yet that had only served to make him even more appealing.
If any gentleman in England had left stubble behind, he would have been bombarded with a million not-so-polite recommendations for a barber.
“Where did he go?” she murmured, lifting her head.
He had not attended dinner. Iona had claimed she had no notion of where he was, and Agnes had not seen him from the window, though to her shame, she had looked. She had even made a game out of it for Lizzy, who had quickly grown bored.
“I bet he is in that tower of his, counting knucklebones or something.” She sat up on the bed, brimming with irritation that overwhelmed any shudder of fear.
Another trick? Another way to toy with me?
She paused, tilting her head. “What do you think, Lizzy?” She glanced across at the baby’s crib.
“Is he saying one thing but meaning another? When he says I should forbid him from touching me, does he really mean I should invite him to touch me? And if so, when he says ‘never go to the eastern tower,’” she put on a rather good impression of him, “does he mean that I should go to the eastern tower?”
Lizzy said nothing, of course.
“Bored of me, are you?”
Sighing, Agnes got off the bed and tiptoed over to the crib, pulling aside the draped silk covering. Lizzy lay sound asleep, her fist next to her mouth.
Agnes smiled and backed away, in case her presence woke her niece.
The trouble was, with Lizzy like that but sleep entirely impossible for her, she had no idea what to do with herself.
If she were back at her aunt’s house, she might have gone to the library to read.
If she were at her father’s house, she would have crept down to the kitchens to play chess with the cook.
If Christine were still alive, the two of them would have lain close together, talking about everything and nothing, chattering until dawn.
I wonder if Marcus is outside.
The housekeeper’s husband had taken to sitting out in the hallway during the night, clearly at his wife’s behest.
Agnes crept to the door and opened it carefully, peering out into the hallway. As she had thought, Marcus was right there, perfectly content in a comfortable chair, whittling away at a chunk of wood.
He looked up, surprised. “Miss Agnes, what are ye doin’ awake?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” Agnes replied with a fond smile.
“I couldnae sleep.”
“Nor could I.” She paused, an idea coming to her. “Could you keep an eye on Lizzy for me? I’m just going to make myself some warm milk. Might put some whiskey in it, see if that helps.”
Marcus chuckled. “If ye put enough in, it will. But me wife willnae forgive me if I let ye do that on yer own. Let me wake her, and she can fetch ye some.”
“Absolutely not!” Agnes insisted, gently closing the door. “I am entirely capable of making warm milk for myself, and you and Iona have done more than enough for me. Indeed, it is time for me to return your generosity. What would you say to some warm milk?”
Marcus shook his head. “Nay, thank ye, but… I suppose I can watch the room while ye have some time to yerself.” There was something like sympathy on his weathered face. “Go on, and we’ll both tell me wife that I made the warm milk for ye.”
“Thank you.” Agnes drew in a relieved breath.
She had been aunt and mother and nursemaid without pause, but tonight, she just wanted to have a wander by herself. If not, she would surely go mad in that room, lying hopelessly in bed, having nothing to do and nothing to distract herself.
Satisfied that Lizzy would be under adequate protection, safe with Marcus guarding her, she headed for the stairs.
She truly meant to go to the kitchens, the idea of warm milk with a splash of whiskey tempting to her tired body, but her wide-awake mind had other ideas.
Before she could really think about it, she found herself heading eastward, along hallways that she had avoided until now.
Curiosity prompted her to poke her head into the rooms she passed, all of them ready for occupation but utterly devoid of life, as if they were waiting for the people who had once filled these halls to return.
It wasn’t exactly her intention to seek out the eastern tower, but she couldn’t get the mysterious place out of her thoughts. She had to know if it was bursting with corpses, or if there was some other grisly secret hiding in it.
Indeed, what could be so bad that he would forbid her from going there?
At length, a door stood right in front of her at the end of a long hallway. It wasn’t the door from her dream, but it intrigued her all the same, for it was the last possible door that could be opened.
She turned the iron ring that served as a handle, and the hinges gave easily, not making a sound. A flutter of nervous excitement caught her between the ribs as she peered into the gloom beyond and found a spiraling staircase illuminated by flickering torches.
This has to be it, right?
So far, so good. So far, no strewn bodies or stuffed heads on the walls.
Certain now that Gordon had been messing with her, she crept forward and made her stealthy ascent, eager to discover where the stairs led.
Up and up she climbed, passing windows that remained shuttered, until at last she came to a stone landing. Another door stood ahead of her, though she paused to gather her breath and her courage before approaching.
There is nothing scary in there; I know it.
Steeling herself, she edged forward on burning legs and put her hand on the iron ring. It turned as smoothly as the one downstairs, practically silent as it whispered open.
As for what existed beyond…
What?
She frowned into a circular room, illuminated by the light from one paltry, smoky window and a few candles that were almost burned down to the wick. Even in that dim light, there was nothing to see. No telltale shape of furniture or anything else.
The room was empty.
Surely not.
She slipped through the gap in the doorway and took a few steps into the stark room, squinting to let her eyes adjust. Perhaps with so little light to see by, she was missing something.
Yes, there… There was an awkward, somewhat rectangular shape, almost as tall as her, and perhaps twice as long, all covered up in dust sheets.
A second later, she was swept off her feet, a stifled scream barely leaving her throat before her shoulders struck the nearest wall. The impact knocked the cry from her lips, transforming it into a gasp as she found herself pinned.
If that had not been enough to silence her, the press of a muscular arm against her neck did the rest.
In the dark, she saw the glimmer of two narrowed eyes high above her and felt the power in the body that trapped her against the wall. She would have recognized him anywhere, even if someone blotted out the moon and blew out the candles, steeping them in complete darkness.
Gordon blinked as if he had just realized who she was. The next moment, the pressure eased from her neck, though he didn’t withdraw his arm.
“What are ye doin’ here, Sunshine?” he asked roughly. “For a lass who claims to be a lady, ye’ve no manners when it comes to followin’ yer host’s rules.”
“I…”
“Did ye nae hear me say that I have me rules for a reason?” His voice was flat and cold, but not as angry as she had anticipated.
Where was the fury he had shown a moment ago, when he had not recognized her? Not that she wasn’t grateful for the lack of it.
“My Laird, I just—”
“Ye just thought ye should test the limits of the Mad Laird’s patience?” he interrupted.
She held his gaze defiantly. “With respect, my Laird, you do not seem all that mad to me, in either sense of the word. Who has not sought solitude in their life? And this appears to be a… perfectly solitary place to do just that. No, not all that mad at all.”
With a comfortable chair and a few more candles, she could certainly see the appeal.
“It’s interestin’ ye would say that,” Gordon replied, a dark laugh rumbling in the back of his throat, “because I’m on the brink of losin’ me damned mind.
I tell ye nae to cross paths with me, I tell ye to forbid me from touchin’ ye, I tell ye nae to come here, and ye decide to appear in nothin’ but this… ”